


Of Odd strangers and Unturned conspiracies

by Not_Me_Aaaah (Yuttis)



Series: We have magic and we did Not think this through [3]
Category: Demons Circling The Earth, Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 03:24:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20650415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuttis/pseuds/Not_Me_Aaaah
Summary: Sometimes strangers are truly strange.Also who the fuck snitched?





	Of Odd strangers and Unturned conspiracies

Although Operation Succession Crises, or OSC, or That Big Thing That Is Happening And No-one Knows The Full Details On was in the full swing, life still went on. Punishments still had to be administered, the world had to keep on turning.

‘Wait, does hell turn?’ wondered Otaka, while walking towards Punishment Administration Offices. But her thoughts whirred away as someone bumped into her and she instantly started to evaluate them. She had always done this as some sort of a game, but after her public breakdown and the founding of OSC she looked for potential new members. She never recruited them, she had too much baggage that even a whisper that connects her to the illicit grouping could get her to prison. Or worse..

The person she bumped into, or the bumpee, if you will, was an odd one. They were made entirely of swirling mirrors that clipped into and out of each other, sometimes showing a glimpse of some kind of.. heat from the inside. The same warmth seemed to hurt the fibre of Otaka’s being every time mirror wasn’t in front of it. 

It was strange indeed.

She HAD to know more!

Quickly recovering herself, Otaka gave the stranger hand “Are you alright? Sorry for hitting you, my mind wasn’t quite there,” she cave a small chuckle, “anyway, my name is Otaka but you can call me Ota or O-bud or buddy or basically anything i will probably react-”

Alright, maybe not a FULL recovery but the stranger seemed to be endeared by her rambling, if the warm snicker and hand given were indicators “I will call you Otaka for now, and you can call me.. Cinamon.”

Cinamon’s hand, or the mirrors in the vague shape or a hand, was cold and had sharp edges, but this wasn’t anything too odd in the hell- many had peculiar skin, Otaka’s was like paper.

“I am going towards the PAO, what about you?”

Due to not seeing stranger’s face she could only guess what they were feeling, but the voice that reached her was pure confusion: “..The PAO?”

“You know.. the Punishment Administration Offices.”

“Oh yes,” Cinamon said, and yet Otaka still had a feeling that they only said that to get her off their back, “I am also going towards that direction, put not to the Punishment Affirmation Offices themselves. So.. show the way?”

Wow, they REALLY had no idea what they were doing, and yet they seemed to ooze confidence.

“You are new here?”

“No.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“Alright!”

Not wanting to scare newfound friend away, Otaka started chatting about anything and everything, Cinamon sometimes adding in a few comments of their own or asking questions.

When Otaka arrived at the PAO, Cinamon had given her their communication orb’s contact address, which, again, odd, because almost no-one had personal orbs, and wished her farewell. All the while Otaka had gained a new potential ally or even a friend.

When former humans hear the words Punishment Administration Offices, they think of pitchforks and hellfire. And while this used to be so, long and long time ago, nowadays it is more like.. unemployment centre. Because no other place with long-living creatures had the need for work, hell’s rulers maharajahs Fujitaki and Nalani changed the guidelines to ‘torture’, which yes, did exist, and now your work IS your tortue! Not only did this choice make hell’s economy boom but it also made for a lot fewer revolts.

Well.. not that much fewer considering that Otaka was planning one, though.

PAO was probably the most civilized part of hell. The walls were -almost- stainless light grey, everything was in ninety-degree angles and there were even chairs where you can sit! Hell usually lacked those things not because of laziness, but because the constant natural disasters, magical teleporting landmasses and some materials magically changing shape once in a while, this perfection was impossible to maintain. They must be using magic to keep it so in the PAO.

After taking her number, Otaka went to a chair and sat down. Waiting times were usually pretty long, but Otaka could keep herself occupied.

As a way to pass time she started to guess things about fellow demons. For example, that redhead constantly checked the clock. Maybe he was supposed to meet someone? That six-eyed one keeps eyeing the job poster for diplomats. Maybe she wants to be one. That green one is carrying a magical charge around.

Wait, what?

Looking more around, Otaka seest that there are some others as well with magical weapons.

Before she could ponder about it any longer her turn came.

Otaka went to the closest window in the wall and knocked. An automated voice answered. “State you order of business.”

“Hello! I would like a job, please!”

“State your full name”

“Otaka Paper.”

“Please wait”

“Thank you--!”

After a few moments, a voice said:

“System error.”

“What! Try again.”

A few moments pass.

“System error.”

After seven more times, Otaka channeled her inner old white lady and said:

“Let me talk to your manager! ...please.”

“Please wait.”

This time, full on minutes passed.

Then, people in uniforms appeared, saying:

“Otaka Paper, you are und-”

Otaka made a run for it. This was it! Her little scheme was at least somewhat unturned. After ducking a few magical attacs and jumping over the attacking badge, she ducked into a sewer hole. Although these arms were older than her, they hadn’t lived in the city like she had. She thought about the possible escape routes, and if the cops were likely to know them. 

Low-rank officers knew the city more, and both the fact that attackers didn’t have any official uniforms and they were using MAGICAL attacks shows that they are high rank, which was good for escaping but REALLY bad for her situation as a whole.

This was not some loose connection between her and the OSC- they KNEW that she was in!

No. Don’t freak out.

She breathed in and out for a few seconds.

She would just have to live illegally now, but that wasn't that big of a change.

But then Otaka had a damning realisation: she didn’t know how to survive illegally. She needed a long term plan and an ally who knows their stuff.

Otaka started to weigh her options: Herlin was smart but barely scraping by. Toyta had survived in the streets for long but the man hated her with passion. Herlo was way too loyal to the maharajahs, Usan was too connected to Otaka, Yerr was one of those people who Otaka thought actually deserved hell..

One by one her options fell away, as she looked at the grime she was covered in. Clean water was hard to come by, so she hadn't washed her hands in a while. But on her hand was also written a code:

5-836-45-666

That was Cinamon's communication orb's address. But they were a practical stranger, why would they help! She needed something to convince them to help her, something blackmail worthy..

Well, define blackmail worthy.

The whole encounter with Cinamon flew through Otaka's head, every detail filtering through.

Getting new people into the OSC was always the work of charismatic Rishika or sweet Tomasu, but Otaka was smart- she could wing this.

After half an hour of planning, Otaka sure had.. something. Was it a long shot? Very.

But what wasn't a long shot at this point of her life?


End file.
